Dirge of Sanity
by Beezlemona
Summary: An insight into Vincent's life before the events in any of the games. Grimoire turns out to be completely insane. Vincent also gets stalked by a small child by the name of Cid.


"Hm…" Vincent said from somewhere behind a lage newspaper.

"What is it, son?" said his father heartily from across the table.

"Look dad, it's an ad for the Turks! I wanna join the Turks! They sound awesome!"

"ahh… no son, don't you know stuff like that is dangerous?" Grimoire said only a little too quickly.

Vincent's russet and very nearly red eyes narrowed and he lowered the paper. "Why. You always seem to want to ENGOUREGE me for any other kind of job. When I said I wanted to be a commando you said "SURE SON! GO WHEREVER YOUR HEART LEADS YOU!" and now you're all like…" Vincent did a vague kind of gesture "Y'know."

"It's only because I care about your safety, son!"

"Sure. Sure it is. Actually I'm beginning to suspect you're hiding something from me…"

"I'm not. I'd never hide from you, son!" Grimoire said a little too loudly. But he said everything a little too loudly so Vincent dropped his suspicion.

_Hmm…well, I should just stop worrying probably! _He thought brightly (if you can imagine him thinking brightly, or if it is possible for even a young Vincent to do anything at all brightly.)

"Still, dad, I really, REALLLY wanna join! I'll be really really good! I'll clean my room! Oh, dad? -"

"Sigh," sighed Grimoire exasperatedly. Actually, he was beginning to get quite worried. Normally Vincent NEVER stood up for what he believed in. "Do you even know what a Turk DOES?"

"Nope."

"That's what I thought…"

"But do _you_ know?"

"Nope! Not at all! What with them being a top secret organisation and all that. Nope!"

"Top secret? They can't be THAT top secret if they put ads in the paper."

"Shoosh."

"Alright."

There was a brief silence.

"Hey, dad?"

"Yes son?"

"Can I PLEASE join? Please? I need the money! I'm 21 for Gaia's sake I need to find myself a house!"

"Alright… but I doubt they'll even let you in, I mean, you have to be able to use a gun and wear blazers and that."

"I _already_ know plenty about guns, you brought me Cerberus when I was two, remember? And remember how you used to make me come with you and shoot wild Chocobos before they overran out humble rickety house and killed us all? And I like blazers and that. They make me look awesome."  
"Do they? I don't think SquareEnix agrees!"

"Wha—"

"Nothing! Anyway, Turks are all. Y'know. Nasty. They're, like, spies, assassins, and thugs, and other nasty dudes. And I don't think you'd make a very good thug."

"Aww, sure I would."  
"No, Vincent." Grimoire said sternly, and Vincent could tell this because he used only one full stop.

"How about a spy then? Or an assassin?"

"No. Just, NO. Do you still want to be a commando?"

"NO! I DO _NOT_ STILL WANT TO BE A COMMANDO! I WANT TO BE A TURK!"

"You sure are one messed up kid!"

"it isn't my fault I'm slightly disturbed! You're totally insane and mum was killed by cactuars when I was eight!"

"So?"  
"AND _I_ FOUND HER BODY! Or, what was left of it. You should let me see a counselor, if you don't want me to think about joining shadowy Shinra organizations and the like."

"NOOOOOOOOO! COUNSELORS ARE EEEVIL!"

"Says you. Just because your one wanted to put you in a mental house."

"Would you like me to cook breakfast?"

"No thank you."

"Okay!" Grimoire went off and began cooking breakfast anyway. And by cooking breakfast I mean playing in the fridge.

Vincent ground his teeth and glared into the broadsheet.

"SON?" Grimoire called from his position curled up in the vegetable crisper.

"What, father?" Vincent sighed, lowering the paper once more.

"Son, I can hear you grinding your teeth. Stop it. I don't want to have to pay for your dental bills."

"Alright, alright," Vincent muttered, raising the paper again and relaxing his jaw slightly. "As long as you get out of the fridge. You're ruining all the lettuce again. And I like lettuce."

"OH MY GOD!" Screamed Grimoire

"What?"

"You like LETTUCE?"

"Well, yes. Serious people are supposed to like lettuce, aren't they?"

"NO, son! Serious people eat plastisine!"

"No, father, that's only you."

"Is it? I thought you LOVED plastisine!"

"Just get out."

There was a brief rustling sound from the kitchen.

"Oh Charybdis, I'm stuck! And I need to pee! NOOO!"

Vincent sighed and put the newspaper down.

Just another day for the Valentine household.

"SON?" Grimoire called.

"Argh, not now dad," Vincent muttered, trying not to let the scene go into unecessary detail because he was in the middle of his morning shower. "Wait a sec, Grimoire!" he called "I'm just in the shower! I'll be up in a minute!"

"Ohh, but I need coffee!"

"Can't you wait?"

"NOOO! I CAN FEEL MYSELF DEMATERIALIZING AS I SPEAK!"

Vincent sighed again, which was pretty much what he did every second sentance. "Alright, I'll just be one second," He said as he stepped out of the shower and reached for the spot where he hung his favorite towel.

What his hand landed on was warm and pudgy and generally not especially towel-like.

He looked down and saw a small child of about three.

"Vinnnnnniiiiieeee!" squeeled the little boy. Yes, he actually _squeeled._

Vincent let out a bloodcurdling scream.

"Tch, tch, you're gonna have to do better than that if you're gonna be a Turk!" Grimour called meanly, apparently not in the slightest bit worried that a reenactment of Psycho could have been taking place in the bathroom below, but he wasn't quite himself without his morning coffee.

"GRIMOIRE! THERE'S A LITTLE KID PERVING ON ME IN THE SHOWER!" Vincent cried, trying to maintain his dignity with a towel that wasn't there.

"Hee, I stoled your towley," The kid giggled

"Oh really? Would you like me to cook breakfast then?"

"NO!" Vincent yelled

"Are you sure? We've got plenty of plasticine to go around!"

"Father, I actually need your help! He's attached himself to my leg!"

"Okay! What color do you want?"

"AAAAARRRRGGGHHH! I'M SERIOUS! IF YOU DON'T HELP ME, YOU MIGHT NEVER GET YOUR MORNING COFFEE **EVER AGAIN!"**

"Sigh!" Grimoire sighed "So you need me to come ALL the way down there and help you?"

"YES! PLEASE!"

"Vinnie!" said the small boy.

"Argh!" said Vinnie.

"I like jelly!" yelled Grimoire conversationally as he thundered down the stairs. "Righty, what's going on then?" He said, throwing open the door. "ARGH! VINCENT YOURE NAKED!" Grimoire cried, screaming a little and throwing his hands across his face.

"Of course I am I just got out of the shower and this kid stole my towel!"

The kid, who looked about three and had wispy blonde hair was sitting on top of Vincent's head.

Vincent tried to get him off, but the boy just swore at him and pulled his hair.

Vincent yelped. "DO something!"

"I can't!" Grimoire screamed, "You're all noooodie! Put some clothes on!"

"Grimoire, I'm your own SON! AND BESIDES THIS IS A BIT OF AN EMERGENCY! OW!"  
The little boy giggled and clung to Vincent's ears as Vincent tried to pull him off.

Finally, no thanks to Grimoire, Vincent had prised the boy from his cranium and put him down on the ground, restraining the kid by his tiny shoulders.

He struggled but then he just looked up and pouted.

"What are you doing in my house? Where are your parents?"

The boy smiled demonicly. "Welll," he said sweetly, "I'm, Im here, because mummy said #$% it Cid, get outta the, the damn house and I was biiin bad, coz, coz, I found a packet o ciggies, and. And I came here becoos I, you're and, And." he concluded inconclusively, very proud of himself. He stared up into Vincent's russet eyes, grinning.

"Oh god." Vincent's mouth said involuntarily before he could stop it. "Grimoire, do you know this child? or his parents, for that matter"  
"FOR GAIA'S SAKE VINCENT FIND YOURSELF A TOWEL!" Grimoire shrilled, cowering in the corner.

"Pass me your cape then!"

"NOO! I LOVE MY CAPE! You can have my scarf instead! Here!" Grimoire unwrapped it from around his neck and thrust it in Vincent's general direction without looking up.

"Gee thanks." He muttered, snatching it out of his father's slightly shaking hand.

"Okay, I'll go cook breakfast!"

"NO YOU WILL NOT! You're staying RIGHT here until we find this kid's parents!"

'Aww, but I'm HUNGRY!"

"Some things are more important then plasticine."

"Really?"

"Yes. Yes they are. So do you know them or not?"

"NOPE!"

"Hm. I thought you may have been to the SAME CHILD ABUSE MEETING, BUT OH WELL, OBVIOUSLY NEITHER OF YOU DECIDED TO SHOW UP BECAUSE YOU WERE TOO BUSY ABUSING YOUR CHILDREN BY MAKING THEM SMOKE AND/OR EAT TOXIC MODELING CLAY!"

"Did you say something, son?" said Grimoire brightly

Vincent sobbed weakly and curled up into a ball on the bathroom floor. "No. Nothing at all."

"OH! That's good, I thought you were spreading rumours again."

"Father, I was telling the police about how you tried to make me sleep in the oven!"

"Well, that's hardly fair! I enjoy sleeping in random kitchen appliances every now and then and it never did me a bit of harm!"

A very cold and naked Vincent gave up and started crying into his knees silently.

"Hee, you're a crybaby!" the little boy cackled.

Vincent suppressed the violent urge to smash the boys face into the corner of the bathroom cupboard, instead digging his fingernails into his own arm until it bled.

"Leave me alone," he whispered. "Both of you, just leave me ALONE."

Grimoire's manic grin shrunk a few notches, and you could actually hear the clicks at every notch "Vincent, are you right there, matey?"

"JUST. GO." He hissed, blood snaking its way down his arm.

Grimoire actually stopped smiling entirely. Vincent was right. Some things WERE even more important then plasticine. He crouched down next to him and put a leather-gloved hand on his son's wet shoulder.

"Vincent," he said quietly "Am I doing something that upsets you?"

Vincent quivered with another wave of silent sobs.

"I saw my mummy like this once, after daddy hit her widda chair," the boy said.

"Hey look, a kid!" Grimoire said happily, patting him on the head.

This did little to stop Vincent's sobs.

"Heh, the funny thing was, I actually had a kid who looked a bit like you. His name was Vincent, and— OH! There he is right THERE! What a surprise seeing you here, Vinnie!"

"Is he like this allda time?" The kid asked, slightly worried

Vincent nodded, and drew a long shuddering breath.

"Okay thin, I betta, betta go becoos otherwise I think yeah. Bye bye, Vinnie. You're pretty." No sooner had he said this then he'd disappeared out of the freshly smashed bathroom window.

Vincent did not stop crying.

"Aww, cheer up, Vin. OH! I know what'd make you feel a whole lot better… I'LL GO GET SOME PLASTACINE RIGHT AWAY!"

"Vincent!" Grimoire called, bashing the living daylights out of his son's bedroom door "Vincent I've got a surprise for you!"

"Ahhrgh," moaned Vincent, burying his face in his pillow. "Dad I's 2 in the morning! Can't you wait until some of us are NOT trying to sleep?"

"But it's a REALLY GOOD surprise! Come on! Get up!"

A bleary and severely sleep deprived Vincent sighed exasperatedly and made his way to the door.

"SURPRISE! I'VE EDITED YOUR JOB APPLICATION FOR YOU!"

Vincent made a horrified whimpering sound as Grimoire thrust the papers under his nose.

"You know," Grimoire babbled "You mad HEAPS of mistakes. In fact, I pretty much had to do the whole thing again!"

"Guh…." Said Vincent, staring at the pages covers in scrawling red lines and trippy crayon drawings.

"Aren't I the best father ever!"

"What… did you…. DO!"

"I told you already! I fixed it! See look, that one's a picture of a lake made of custard with a surfing snail on it! See?"

Vincent took a very deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Grimoire," he said, "I am going to go back to bed now and if this isn't a nightmare I'm going to not let you have ANY JELLY for the REST OF THE YEAR."

"Well, I don't think it is, because I'm here! And what would I be doing in your nightmares? Me? Your loving dad?"

"Get out of my room," he hissed.

Grimoire's lip wobbled. "But…. But…"

"GETOUTGETOUTGET**OUT**!"

Grimoire burst into tears "I was only trying to help!"

Vincent carefully placed the papers down on his bedside table, before walking in an eye-of-the-storm-type-calm kind of way over to his father. "Grimoure," he said quietly, looking into his tear-filled eyes "Hey, it's alright. Just. Go back to sleep. And try not to touch my things in the future, alright? I thought we already had this talk."

"Aww" Grimoire sniffed. "I'm sorry Vinnie. I'll go then. Goodnight."

"Goodnight. Father."

There was a pause.

"Grimoire, what are you doing?"

"This lampshade thastes like glue!"

Vincent gritted his teeth "I THINK YOU SHOULD GET TO BED."

"Okay then! Goodnight Vinnie!"

Vincent gently pushed him out of his room and locked the door.

"Vincent?" Called a small voice from the other side of the door about ten minutes later.

"What, Grimoire?"

"I'm scared."

Vincent made a frustrated sound roughly equivalent to a growl.

"Can I come and sleep with you? Please?"

Vincent sighed and unlocked the door with seething frustration barely concealed behind his comforting face.

"Alright. Alright. Just. Keep your teeth out of the electrical appliances please this time."

Grimoire nodded frenziedly and scurried in, instantly laying down and taking up all the room on his son's bed.

Vincent tried to find a spot that was not taken up and the only spot he could find was the floor.

"Thank you, Vinnie," Grimoire said sleepily, his eyes drifting closed.

"That's okay," said Vincent with acid sarcasm, curling up on the carpet and trying to convince himself it was comfortable.

Grimoire soon fell asleep, curled up with his plasticine teddy.

Vincent spent the rest of the night staring at a piece of carpet fluff a few centimeters away from his nose, dreading the morning when he'd have to put up with Grimoire some more… But then he thought about that strange little 3 year old and HIS abusive parents and he began hating himself from the the bottom his heart for feeling so sorry for himself when there were people just as deprived as him, because hating himself was something that Vincent excelled at.

And so he was too busy hating himself notice the little face pressed against the glass of his bedroom window.


End file.
